


Heart's eye

by Saetha



Series: O Swallow, have mercy on them [Febuwhump 2021 Prompt Fills] [18]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: (Nothing graphic though), Angst, Blindness, Din Djarin Whump, Eye Trauma, FebuWhump2021, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Married Couple, Retired Din Djarin, no beta we die like Din’s fears under Cobb’s gentle hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29535147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: “I’m okay,” Din wants to say, but cannot make the sound to go past his lips. All that comes out is a croak, and it’s still so very dark around him.“Shhhh, don’t move.” Cobb’s voice again, somewhere above him. His hands are cool on Din’s burning skin and he clings to the sensation even as dark waves are dragging him back under again.*Din is blinded by an explosion. He and Cobb navigate through this new life of theirs together as he adjusts to his involuntary retirement and finds joy in other things.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Series: O Swallow, have mercy on them [Febuwhump 2021 Prompt Fills] [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138178
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Heart's eye

**Author's Note:**

> This one takes place quite a bit further into the future - Din and Cobb are already married, and Din has been going around doing odd jobs as Mandalorian when the incident that starts the fic occurs. I purposely went very light on the struggle/whump parts pertaining to vision loss here because, as a sighted person, I don't feel like it's my story to tell. Instead there's just a lot of soft things and gay husband goodness.
> 
> Today's prompt was: "I can't see."

The last thing Din remembers is a white flash, followed by a loud noise, followed by, well, nothing. Then the sound of soft murmurs as he is floating in and out of consciousness, the feeling of getting carried, of hands on his body. His husband’s voice, haggard with worry, caught in there somewhere.

“I’m okay,” he wants to say, but cannot make the sound to go past his lips. All that comes out is a croak, and it’s still so very dark around him.

“Shhhh, don’t move.” Cobb’s voice again, somewhere above him. His hands are cool on Din’s burning skin and he clings to the sensation even as dark waves are dragging him back under again.

The next time he wakes he doesn’t quite feel like every nerve in his body is on fire anymore. Instead, all his senses are dulled, as if someone has scraped off the edges and wrapped him in dozens of blankets. Din opens his eyes, but there is only darkness. He tries to move and discovers that the dullness from his senses seems to extend to the rest of his body – moving just a little requires extraordinary amounts of effort. At least he gets his fingers to twitch, a broken sound escaping his throat.

“Din?” There it is again, Cobb’s voice. The voice that is home for him, the voice of the man he loves, his _husband_. The word makes Din smile again. No matter how many times he thinks it, how many times he wraps his tongue around it, it never ceases to fill him with wonder. He croaks out an affirmative word and can feel Cobb’s fingers on him at once, one hand intertwining with his own, the other on his face.

“Stay still. The explosion wreaked havoc on you, it’s a wonder you’re still alive.” Worry suffuses Cobb’s voice. “You must be thirsty. Give me a moment.”

Din wants to see his face so badly, wants to reassure him that he is just _fine_ , but still, no words come out through his throat and nothing he does seems to be able to lift the veil of darkness in front of his eyes. There are sounds around him, footsteps, as Cobb evidently goes to fetch something and then returns. A hand under his head, helping him lift it up, pressing something cool against his lips.

“Here. Drink. Slowly, mind you.”

Whatever it is that Cobb is giving him, it seems to soothe his throat somewhat, although it makes him tired as well. He tries to speak again.

“Cobb,” he finally manages to press out.

“I’m here, I’m right here.” Cobb squeezes his hand. “Don’t talk. Your throat is still pretty damaged from the blast. Just sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.” There is an unease lurking at the edge of Cobb’s voice that Din cannot place yet, but he does as he is told and goes back to sleep, knowing that his husband would never lie to him. Cobb’s grip on Din’s hand remains steady and firm, even for long after he has fallen back asleep.

*

“I can’t see.” Din reaches out in front of him, trying to find Cobb who he knows has to be nearby. The black curtain in front of his eyes hasn’t lifted, although sometimes he thinks he can make out the barest of movements in the inky blackness. It isn’t the first time that he says the words, and it won’t be the last time either.

“I know.” Cobb’s hand catches his and squeezes his fingers. “The doctor said they might improve over time, but…”

“I can’t _see_ ,” Din whispers again, trying to swallow around the building panic in his throat. There’s so much he’s been taking for granted, so many sights that he’s never really cherished because the thought he would have decades to remember it all and commit it to memory.

“I’m going to touch your face now.” Cobb waits for him to nod, before his thumb gently brushes across Din’s cheek and he cups his cheek. “I’m right here, I won’t go anywhere. We’ll figure this out together.”

“I know. I just-“ Din takes a deep breath and regrets it immediately. The burns on his skin haven’t healed completely yet, although at least he has gained some resemblance of his voice back. Still gravelly and broken, but not gone completely anymore. “I don’t – what am I going to do?”

“Well, there’s always the job of bantha herder. They amble around so slowly, all you’d have to do is to follow them,” Cobb suggests, a lilt of amusement in his voice. Din frowns and punches him where he thinks his shoulder is.

“That’s not-“ Of course Cobb knows that this isn’t what he meant. He just wants to lighten the mood. And on an instinctual level, Din knows this, but he still cannot help the anger rushing through him, anger at himself, at his carelessness, the gravity of their situation. He bites his tongue and breathes out heavily through his nose, takes a few moments to calm himself down before he speaks again.

“I miss your face,” he says, very quietly. And he does; misses the way his husband’s eyes shine when they look at him, the way his skin crinkles at the edge of his eyes every time he laughs. He is terrified of forgetting what it looks like, although realistically, he knows it won’t happen. You don’t just forget what the other half of your heart looks like.

“Hey now. I didn’t get to see yours for an awfully long time and it didn’t alter my feelings one bit,” Cobb objects.

“That was different,” Din points out. He can hear the soft sound Cobb makes when he’s smiling.

“Maybe,” Cobb admits. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

“Never,” Din’s voice is barely more than a whisper. He hates it that Cobb has to ask, at the same time that he’s absurdly grateful for the fact that he _does_ ask. Cobb’s lips meet his and here, at last, is something that hasn’t changed – the taste and feel of him are still the same as always, a comforting constant when everything else seems to have shifted. Din brings up both of his arms, mindful of the bandages still covering the burns on his skin and runs his fingers through Cobb’s hair.

“Mhm. Glad to see that you’re still as enthusiastic as ever,” Cobb whispers into the space between them. He laughs a little when Din surges forward to kiss him again, more desperate than he usually is, perhaps, but if so, who could truly fault him?

*

Din continues to recover, physically at least. Save for his eyesight, of course – it remains as dark and unyielding as the first moment when he woke up. He does get used it, in a way. It doesn’t take him long to be more or less self-sufficient in their house, since he has lived here for long enough that the rough walls have almost become part of his bones anyway. Some of his senses strengthen a without the use of his sight, although they can never compensate fully for the loss. He can tell which part of the village he is in by the texture of the sand under his feed, learns to forecast whether storms come by the way the wind tastes on his tongue. Therefore, it’s him who hears the approaching footsteps first, long before the knock on their door sounds out. He is up and out of his seats before Cobb can react, already halfway to the door.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Master Din?” If the footsteps hadn’t been a dead giveaway, then the high tones that the question is asked in is.

“Rika.” Din smiles, directing his sightless gaze a little lower, down to where he estimates the little girl’s head is. “What can I do for you?”

“Ma said I should come find you,” Rika says very seriously. “She says you know how to talk to the Tuskens. And about to the desert, how to survive there.”

“I do.” Din nods, although he hasn’t talked to the Tuskens in a while – he can make their signs, true, but he cannot see their replies anymore. It still smarts. He has always enjoyed his trips out into the desert but ever since has lost his sight, he hasn’t even tried visiting his friends anymore.

“Could you teach me?” Rika’s voice sounds full of suppressed enthusiasm, as if the idea of spending a whole day learning with Din is the most exciting of prospects.

“Uh.” Din is more than a little surprised by the request. But then – what exactly does he have to lose? And what else should he be doing with his time? He is no longer a Mandalorian, but that doesn’t mean that his life should remain without purpose forever.

“Why not?” he finally answers. “If you come back tomorrow, we can start a few lessons. You are welcome to bring others who might want to join in.”

“Thank you!” She sounds like she is about to explode with excitement and Din smiles when he closes the door, sets to convert the now un-used chamber where he used to store and prepare his armour and weapons into something resembling a school room. He hums softly to himself as he does so. Perhaps he can teach her a few more things about the world outside Tattooine as well, impart on her at least a little of the things he has seen during his travels. It would be nice, to give a voice to all the memories in his head, pass them on so they can be seen with someone else’s eyes.

*

Cobb can hear his husband’s voice even before he opens the door to their home. Din’s tone is measured and patient, never loud, no matter how rowdy the children in his care get. It has been three months since he has first started giving lessons, and they have expanded from simple Tusken signs to all areas of life, drawing from Din’s experience of the many places he has visited, the many adventures he has had and languages he speaks.

Cobb sneaks closer, until he can lean against the doorway to the room they have converted into an unofficial school space. Din is seated at the head of the class, his handful of students on the floor in front of him. They watch in fascination as he tries to explain to them the Tusken signs to do with eating and different foods. A young Tusken girl is at his side, watching with eagle eyes as the other children try and replicate the signs. It is such an incredible sight that Cobb still cannot quite believe it – not only had the Tuskens agreed to Din’s proposal of sending Rika to them for a week to learn more about them, they had also offered little resistance to letting one of their own children stay in Mos Pelgo, to help Din with teaching their language to the others. The hardest bit of work had been to convince Yarena, Rika’s mother, to let her daughter go for a few days.

The little Tusken girl takes Din’s hand and draws a few motions into his palm, making Din laugh out loud. He replies by signing something, then taking her hand into his and repeating a shorter version of the signs into her palm. Already, they have begun finding ways around him being unable to see, supplementing the normal Tusken signs with movements that can be felt, drawn from an old Tusken whose sight has been diminishing for years. Cobb feels his heart swell at the sight of his husband’s happiness, something he hadn’t quite been sure he would be able to find again.

“Cobb!” Din looks up, gaze directed in his general direction.

“Hey.” Cobb raises his hand and waves it at the assembled children. His husband smiles.

“Marshal, why don’t you come and join us? You can show us some of the signs that you’ve learned recently.” He very conveniently leaves out the part where his last ‘lesson’ had somehow ended with both Din and Cobb forgetting about the subject matter rather quickly and concentrating on drawing quite different designs onto each other’s skin. From there one thing has led to another and, well. The tiny smirk that accompanies the question betrays just how aware Din is of that exact fact.

“Why not.” Cobb takes care to take off his boots first and shake some of the sand out of his clothes. He takes a seat next to his husband, joining in for the remainder of the lesson. At some point, his fingers intertwine with Din’s, who simply smiles at the touch of Cobb’s hand. Cobb watches him as he teaches, his entire expression alight with the same sort of fire that used to propel him around the universe, made him protect and adopt a child that wasn’t his. Fierce determination, a joy for learning and teaching, and copious amounts of love for all those surrounding him, all intertwined into one.

He loves this man next to him, loves him with all his heart and the warmth of it makes his chest ache. He cannot wait for the rest of their lives together.


End file.
